


Jake from Omaha

by Polly_Phemus (orphan_account)



Series: Everything's Jake [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 12:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Polly_Phemus
Summary: Dean's first Jake.





	Jake from Omaha

Jake from Omaha was the first. Dean was nineteen, not that what he was doing was legal. Hell, he shouldn't have even been in a bar, but where the hell else was he gonna hustle pool? The Y? He'd never hustled pool, just watched Dad do it, but desperate times were calling for desperate measures.

He covered his ass by having Coke without alcoholic additives. Kept his costs down, too, which was important on a Wednesday night when John wouldn't be back at least until Saturday. He'd walked in the door at five with five bucks in his pocket and managed to leverage it to twenty before too long. He could've played a longer game, picked up more money, but the cupboard was literally bare and he wanted to get Sammy fed at a reasonable hour.

Unfortunately, people in Omaha did not take kindly to being hustled, at least not the kind of people who were at a bar in the early evening on a weeknight. Rather unpleasant words were exchanged until a middle-aged man who looked like a seedy accountant but who actually owned the bar, stepped forward to invite Dean into his office.

To Dean's surprise, the man's office was tidy and clean, even had a window. The man offered to let Dean hang out there without until "the rowdy element," as he called them, had left. Even set him up with ginger ale on the house. "They'll give way to the rowdier element in about an hour," the man said. "I cannot advise that you mix with them."

Dean waited, figuring that it was probably just a matter of time before the guy asked him for something. He wasn't wrong about that. He'd been counting holes in the acoustic tile ceiling for about twenty minutes when the guy came back.

"Not too long," he promised. Dean'd had plenty of time to come to his decision. 

"I appreciate this," he said, licking his lips, which still tasted sickly-sweet from off-brand ginger ale. "Anything you want in return?"

"God, yes," the man said. "But...."

"Let me," Dean offered, reaching for the man's belt buckle. He'd never blown a guy, but he'd gotten blown himself from girls and women, and always liked returning the favor. How different could it be?

The man swatted Dean's hands aside. "No, Ray," he'd said, going off the name on Dean's ID. "I just want...."

The man broke off, his face hungry with lust. Dean looked at him, really looked. A bit older than Dad and it wasn't just lust he was seeing. It was hunger, yes, but for something more than sex.

The man suddenly leaned in and kissed Dean. His lips were surprisingly soft, not any different from a girls', but the needy groan in the back of his throat was decidedly masculine. He moved his mouth urgently against Dean's and Dean parted his lips. 

Dean had never been kissed like that. No one had ever wanted him as much as that man did, in that moment. It hit Dean right in the gut, being wanted like that. Turned him on, knowing how much this man wanted him.

Dean went a bit fuzzy, lost in this weird feedback loop of the man's desire for him and how just that alone was making Dean want him back. So he lost some details on how exactly he ended up with this guy's mouth on his dick, but man, it was good, so good, and in the end he came, and as soon as he opened his eyes he saw that the man was watching him with that same hunger, was finishing himself off with his own hand, because he'd wanted Dean that much.

There was this moment, right after the man came, suspended in time, in the little, clean office that Dean wanted to hold on to. But of course he couldn't. The guy got a couple of wet wipes, they cleaned themselves off, the guy handed Dean a fifty dollar bill and a slip of paper with a phone number on it.

"Ah...drifting through," Dean said apologetically. 

"Got that," the man said. "But if you drift back...."

"Sure."

"No, really, keep it. I'm good for more."

"Okay," Dean said and made a big show of tucking the fifty and the number in his wallet. He left the bar, stopped off at KFC, where it turned out they were having a special, he could've probably managed to feed both himself and Sammy on the five he'd started out with, but now he could feed them ten times over.

When he pulled out the fifty, the phone number fell to the floor. For some reason he picked it up, and laughed when he saw that the man had written his name, John, on the slip of paper.

"A bit on the nose," Dean said without adding "in more ways than one." He borrowed a pen from the clerk and re-wrote the number on the back of his receipt. He swapped in the name "Jake," a name that meant nothing to him. 

So the man who owned the bar and kissed with such sweet desperation became Dean's first Jake.


End file.
